


Four Walls

by CinderPoppy (salamanderssmile)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, M/M, Red String of Fate, Trauma, With A Twist, as you see it's very happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 13:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15558591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamanderssmile/pseuds/CinderPoppy
Summary: Shen and Zed always knew they were tied by fate. As fate would not have it, it was not forever.





	1. Shen

Shen always knew. Since he was a child, he knew. His string lead into infinity for a very brief time. The day the pale boy appeared in front of the Temple, it became finite. It was the day his father took in his star apprentice. Only they could see it, but all knew. About the red string tying them to each other.

Having found the end of his string so young was a joy and a frustration. No amount of hide-and-seek could save him from the other end. But they were together. It was enough.

Shen knew, since he was very young, that they could share everything. Words were barely needed. They felt in tandem, thought together. They knew each other’s dreams, hopes, fears. There was an intrinsic trust in their bond that he thought could never break.

Jhin had filled them with fear. So much of it they choked and struggled, locked in a whirlpool of terror. Their bond was strong, but so was the Golden Demon’s effect on them. Shen turned to emptiness, but the anguish on the other end of the string never faded. He didn't do enough.

Shen knew from the start that something was different. There was a shadow looming over the vague feelings that weren't his. It devoured, entangled, corrupted. He would be afraid of it, but he had spent all his fear, was left hollow in the aftermath. But he could always feel the other end. It grounded him.

The shadows were indeed all-consuming, and Shen felt the outrage, the pain of the pale young man as he shouted at Shen’s father. “Coward!” his screams echoed. Shen remained impassive, but his string shook with barely contained emotion. Like two opposites, one was empty, while one overflowed. He didn't do enough.

When his string disappeared into the horizon, Shen knew he had failed, even though his father told him otherwise. He was strong, Kusho said, for avoiding the corruption in his bond. But Shen didn't feel strong. He felt empty.

There was a certain kind of loneliness, one Shen had never known before. The kind you can never quite fill, because what should be in the empty space is missing. He drowned in training to escape it, but the other end still tugged his heart to beat. It danced a fading cadence of emotions he couldn't understand, but didn't want them to stop. They grounded him.

One day, at an ugly gray dawn, he was set afloat. His string fell limp on the floor, where before it wavered above it, just tense enough to remind him it was tied somewhere else as well. The chorus of emotions, the beat his heart followed faded, slowly at first, then all at once. And he was truly empty. He tried to cry out the knot in his chest, but he didn't know how, not anymore. His eyes ran dry. No one ever knew.

Shen never thought he could be more lonely, but the emptiness was just as all-consuming as the shadows. He told Kusho of the string he now dragged behind him, leading nowhere, fraying at an end. Kusho in turn told him strings disappeared in death. They only dragged when cut. He hadn't done enough.

He learned to live with the emptiness, the loneliness. They became as natural as breathing, slowed his heart until its beat was as dispassionate as it could be. No one else ever knew. He was set afloat.

When his father was killed, Shen felt hatred, felt pain, felt fear. Felt the echo of the vague feelings that he once felt that weren't his. He tried to cry, but his eyes still ran dry. He ran away with what was left of the Order, and he dragged his string with him. He had never done enough.

Shen always knew that he was tied to Zed. But, as fate would not have it, Zed was not tied to him. Not anymore.


	2. Zed

Zed was afraid he'd never know. When he was a child, on the streets, he thought he would never find the other end of his string. Then he was taken in by the Kinkou, and he saw. A red haired boy with a red string tied around his finger. Only they saw it, but Zed knew right away that all that could see them knew. He didn't like it.

Finding the other end of his string brought him relief. It eased him, knowing his friend was always there. They played together, and he never had that before. It was a joy, and a frustration at times. But being together was enough for him.

Zed was afraid that his other end would not like him if he shared what he thought. He learned soon that they could say anything and everything. They felt together, dreamt together. Their bond was soaked in trust, and Zed thought that was enough.

Khada Jhin was horror. Zed feared him, knew by the tugs in his heart that he wasn't alone in his fear. Their string was bright red and vivacious, but the Golden Demon made sure they knew blood was just like it. Zed agonized, but he did so alone, for at the other end of the string, he found only dispassion. His pain only grew.

When Zed found the box, he found power, he found respite. He knew they were both aware of the shadows, large and growing in his mind, twisting together with his thoughts. For once, the emptiness in the other end helped him. It was a relief.

When his rage threatened to overflow, become a fire that wiped away all it saw, Zed walked forward. His anguish, casting large shadows of its own, demanded to be spilled, and he shouted, violently demanded action. Reprimanded from all fronts, he tugged at his string, but found only dispassion. So his pain only grew.

Being away was yet another weight on the heap on his heart. He had seen his string disappear on the horizon before, but never like this, never so  _ permanently _ . Zed knew he could not go back, so he endured the loneliness, and tugged at his string to feel anything from the red haired young man, but would only find the dreaded dispassion. In time, he stopped tugging.

He gathered his own apprentices, he harnessed the shadows. Zed grew, surpassed himself. He became a fear himself, no longer a slave to the terrors locked away in his mind. But he never forgot the string on his finger, reminding him of days past. And where it gave him emptiness, he found respite. He hated it.

One day, at an ugly gray dawn, Zed cut the string on his finger, and felt the emptiness be consumed by a rush of shadows. He felt as though ripping at the seams. In place of dispassion, he found only more rage. It fed him until there was little else. He wanted to cry, but he had cried all his tears long ago. So his pain only grew.

Zed had only once before felt as lonely as he was then. As a child, weak and orphaned in the streets, alone and terrified. He could bear the weight once, so he would bear it again. He did not tell anyone of the short length of red string hanging from his finger. It was not needed. The shadows would enlighten him.

When he descended upon the Kinkou Order, killing Kusho was cathartic. The anguish he felt at the eternal dispassion of his diminished. The blood soaked the soil, the shadows loomed large and threatening. Zed felt no emptiness. It was a relief, but it only fed his pain.

Zed was afraid he'd never know. If the weight of the string on his finger was ever going to be lighter than an anchor.

**Author's Note:**

> filed under "bad ideas i had at dinner"  
> luv me some angst
> 
> if you enjoyed it, consider buying me a coffee at ko-fi.com/cinderpoppy


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